Friday, July 17, 2009

mas de israel

Next day: learning, kayaks on Jordan River, Prince

Today we learned in the morning, then went “kayaking” on the Jordan River in the afternoon. I could lie and say it was crazy white water rapids, as we were expecting from the safety talk and demonstration, but alas it was clearly not. My kayak partner, Inna, and I got into our blow up “kayak” and tried to control it by various paddling techniques. I swear the boat only wanted to do 360s no matter what we tried to do, so we gave up and went in circles down the river…we got quite a scenic view! There were orthodox Jews paddling, and Muslim women in full hijab wearing life vests. As we rammed into one guy’s boat he asked my political opinions on the world…”American!? How Obama? How Netanyahu? How Ahmadinajad?”

There were Israelis smoking hookah right in the water, and there were children attempting to flip over tourists. It was great. Whence we reached the end, a feeling of bonding and accomplishment filled the air. We had pizza for lunch. As usual we were late for everything, so instead of going on a hike in Banyas, we went on a secret hike in the middle of nowhere. As soon as some people saw bees and cows they turned around and headed back on the bus. But not I! Israel is my chance for self exploration and adventure…so I trudged through the bee hives and into the thistles with the Rebbetsen and co. We climbed up this beautiful canopy of trees and rocks only to see….a water pipe! It was a “natural spring,” yeah right….the way back we trudged through waist deep water, but it was great. I won over nature that time.

That evening, we had dinner and heard this famous guy who was an African prince, but found a calling to Judaism. After our session, we all went swimming in the Knerret around midnight. This must be one of the most amazing/dangerous/fun/spontaneous things I’ve ever done. The water was super dark but milky warm. In the distance, we could see the orange city lights of Tiberius to the left, and Lebanon to the right. No matter how far we went out, the water remained warm and fairly shallow. Stars shone as I lay on my back in the water and pondered the meaning of life (ok corny but so true!) It was a magical moment.

Afterwards, we went to a kostor (campfire) that some of our group made on the beach. We just sat around laughing and chatting while the magic of Israel was weaving in and out of our minds, by the stars in the sky and the beautiful views of the Knerret. I truly fell in love.

Friday June 26th….Tsfat, Israel (Safed)

Today we went to Tsfat, the capital of mysticism in Israel. Here is where the famous Shulcan Aruch was written, and the secrets of Kabbalah permeate the hot atmosphere. We went to a couple of famous synagogues, a candle shop, and heard an American artist who discovered Kabbalah and now sells tooottallllyyy coolllll paintings. He spoke like a California surfer regarding the mystic powers of Kabbalah while our Orthodox Rabbi sat and shook his head. I bought a cool painting about lifting your spirit to do good.

Dan told us about a cool place to have lunch so we shlepped all the way up a hill to a kosher (damnit!) restaurant called Café Bagdad which was breathtaking views of the valley below. Determined to get some shopping done, I ate my falafel platter quickly and took the steps to try and find the artists’ colony below. Per usual, I got lost. But it was the best part of the day. The winding streets reminded me of Sevilla, but clearly much older and more mystical. I ran into Orthodox Jewish children laughing in the streets, a group of Israeli girl soldiers, and Hassidic men asking secular to do tefillin. Though the air was heavy with heat, I had a moment of profound connection to Judaism and Israel. Why had I gone to Spain looking for what was right here in my homeland? Though the shops were closing in preparation for Shabbat (I was like…do they have siesta here? Is that why the shops are closing at 2?) I found more meaning in just wandering and discovering hidden alleys than buying Jewish memorabilia. Glorious.

After Tsfat, I had the shortest 2 hour bus ride of my life (felt like 5 minutes!) and I mentally pat myself on the back again for buying that pillow for my head in NYC. We arrived in Hispin, our hotel in the Golan Heights, where we would spend Shabbat.

A few words about Shabbat: Never have I truly experienced the magic of even understood the magic Shabbat brings to peoples’ lives until I met the Jacobowitzs’. They are the holiest family I have ever witnessed, the wife and husband are equal…the husband adoring the wife and likewise. The respect their 9 children have for their parents is unparalleled…and the love that emanates from each smile and glance is clear for any secular eye to appreciate. Here is a family that lives for enjoying life and believe in G-d. They speak of the magic of Shabbat with breathless anticipation, as if talking about the latest gossip or a new love. Rest and relaxation, taking a day to appreciate the wonders of life…spending time unadulterated by modern technology….women bringing more light into the world by lighting Shabbos candles. This is something I will strive to emulate in my life (to soommmme degree).

However, when we saw the boys dancing around and praying, while the girls didn’t…it pissed me off. Even though, the Rebbetsen explained that women are not obligated to pray because we are spiritually higher than men and don’t need an obligation…it smacked of essentialism to me and my feminist anger swelled up. I pulled my modest shawl around my shoulders in rebellion.

After a Shabbos dinner where Lina and I had a great talk about the meaning of life, we had Oneg Shabbat where the program bought us lots of l’chaims and we sat around listening to the Rabbi tell fascinating stories about Judaism and life.


Shabbat in the Golan Heights, June 27th

I woke up this morning with a pounding headache and nausea. Breakfast seemed light years away as I looked at the clock. 7 am. Great.

Happily I remembered that our hotel had wifi in the lobby, so I went outside with my laptop, walking through the open air courtyard to the lobby. There were Jews already in “shul” (converted conference rooms) praying. Silly little me, no sooner had I plugged in my converter that an Orthodox Jew came over and told me to respect the Sabbath. No email during the Sabbath. Seething with anger, I lamented the fact that I had no clue what was going on in the world, and apparently Newyorktimes.com was not Sabbath friendly.

Trying not to be too mad, I came back to the room, where my fabulous roommates Rita, Inna, and Masha were slowly getting up. As I recounted my tale of Shabbat injustice, they shrugged their shoulders and said I should’ve known better. Perhaps I should have, but I certainly don’t think it’s acceptable to impose your way of life on other people. Clearly, my reform Judaism, which I thought made rational sense to the secular Jew, did not appeal (and my roommates were even rather disgusted by Reform Judaism).

Finally it was time for breakfast, which was again Kosher food I could not stomach. I can stomach anything…anything….but not this hotel Kosher food. Clearly it was not my day so I said ok, time to go back to bed. And I slept the rest of Shabbat. Day of rest, right? In the late afternoon, I took a solitary walk around the water reservoir and playground of the hotel. The wind blew through my hair, and I pondered the meaning of life. It was really one of those moments.

In the nighttime, our program took us to Tferiya (Tiberius) on the shores of the Knerret (Sea of Galilee) for a cruise. We passed by the boardwalk, with its shining neon lights and hanging necklaces, and came to our ship. Where dancing teenagers awkwardly got off to..Time of Your Life….hehe.

Let the Jewish dancing begin! As our ship sailed 10 feet from the dock, and we could see the beautiful views of the light studded hills in the distance, the Orthodox in our group formed two sex segregated horas (circles) and we began swinging back and forth to Israeli music. One of the boat guys formed a drum circle and showed us how to bang on the drums Israeli style as we danced around. It was fabulous! Since basically everyone on the program were friends by now, we smiled, laughed, and hora’d away. Pure kosher bliss.

It was a 2 hour bus ride back to the Golan Heights, which I thoroughly enjoyed.

Sunday June 27th

Today we went to the Banyas, a beautiful waterfall and park, to hike. The views were really beautiful. Afterwards, we drove up to the border between Israel and Syria, and saw the view below. Our guide told us the story of the border establishment, as we looked onto Syria below and heard about their attack during the 6 Day War. I need to learn more about Israeli history to fully appreciate what I saw I think….I know however, that having heard about the Golan Heights only through American media sources, I was astounded at how beautiful and peaceful it was. Again, when you look over at Syria…the land is completely arid and dry, but in Israel, it’s green and cultivated. Also, the Golan Heights represent some absurdly small fraction of Syria’s territory while it is a sizable proportion of Israeli land. Such crap.

In the evening, we had Rabbi J talk, and in the wee hours. Rabbi J, Vitalik and I talked about the existence of G-d until 2 am. Rabbi J astounds me in every way, he appreciates intellectual honesty and really has instilled in me this feeling of Judaism saying that Jews must KNOW G-d exists through questioning and study, while others “believe” in G-d. Really a profound thought, and an exercise in understanding Judaisms’ unfailing emphasis on scholarship. Though the Rabbi and I disagree on many things, and I couldn’t really take as fact most of what he said, it was truly interesting to hear his views. We talked about evolution vs. creationism for more than 2 hours. I’d love to hear more scientific/religious views like his…where the two don’t contradict (in the Jewish version) and also, he kept saying that “science” was just as much a religion as anything else, and you had to take more leaps of faith to believe science than Judaism…that is, if you accept the Torah as undeniable fact…..problematic.

I went to sleep thoroughly cognitively exhausted. Even talking to the rabbi was a struggle as I was so unbelievably tired and exhausted…but I saw the opportunity as completely unable to be missed…and it was worth it.

Monday June 28th

Kfar Kedem is a place that seeks to provide visitors with a sense of what life was like in Biblical times. Our fabulous guide made us wear Biblical costumes (made us look Arab!) and then we made our own pita. We sat down and had a tasty Israeli lunch…Israeli salad, tahini, pita, hummus, and shish kebabs.

After, we went on probably the craziest hike of my life down Mt. Arbel, overlooking an Arab village. The views were astounding, however, we had to not only climb in the midday heat, but use a cord connected to the mountain, clinging to life as we walked on a cliff ledge before climbing down the mountain. A first (probably last) for me. It was challenging and fun, and a popsicle was definitely in order afterwards. Along with a nap for the 3 hour ride back to Jerusalem.

Tuesday June 29th

Today we heard a lecture of Judaism and archeology, from an archaeologist Rabbi. Dry stuff…hehe. Then we went to this amazing place outside of Jerusalem called Har Radar, a big triumphant arch memorial to the soldiers who died in 1948. We had lunch in the midday heat (kosher!) and some climbed on tanks. We climbed up the arch, where you can clearly see Ramallah, Jerusalem and the Green Line. The Green Line is RIDICULOUS. You can literally see it because, again, Jewish land is green and Arab land is….undeveloped. CRAZY. I remember reading about this in Exodus, but really seeing it in real life affirms any doubts from before. Then we checked out some Maccabean graves and a park before going for….dum dum dummmMMMmm! Repelling. Our Israeli repel guide explained all the rules before leading us to the cliff. I was trying to calm myself and say….you can do this, you can do this. I let others go before me to build up courage, and then I put on the harness and helmet. My mind was quiet as I tried to take a step down the mountain, listening to my Israeli guide the whole time. But I couldn’t do it, and I made the mistake of looking down. My body swung over and struck the side of the cliff, and my knees buckled. The Israeli guide tried to convince me to go…”Everyone else did it!” and the funny expression, “If everyone jumped off of a cliff…would you do it too?” expounded in my head. Suddenly I realized, I did not want to do this in any capacity. And had no reason to. Though the Israelis tried to make me feel ashamed for failing, I couldn’t care less. A little embarrassment yes, but really very little.

During our bus ride back, I got into another heated argument with Max, the Orthodox organizer, about the merits of Reform Judaism. He would just not leave me alone and I was already cognitively exhausted from the repelling incident. Then he told me I had to tell the Rebbetsen about Yeshivalite. Background: I was supposed to do this Russian Trip for 2 weeks, coming in a week late due to graduation. Because I was paying a lot less for a scholarship, Max talked me into doing this other girls’ only Yeshiva program run by the Rebbetsen. My understanding was that I would join after the Russian trip but Max told me I had to leave tonight. No way. I was soooo mad at him because I really respect the Rebbetsen and in NO way wanted to let her down, so I asked him to talk to her, but he refused. Fuming, I tried to calm myself down, eat a little something, and talked to the other 2 girls in the same predicament. We decided I’d talk to the Rabbi and Rebbetsen first. Everyone in the group was aware of the situation and clearly did not want us to leave, as we were quite close now. I approached the happy couple with trepidation, my heart pounding!

Before they could even speak, I prefaced myself…I told them that in nooooooo way did I want to disrespect them because I truly appreciated and honored them so much, but that there had been a misunderstanding. They listened to me intently, and agreed without a second doubt. A huge wave of relief and excitement hit me as I walked away from the table, leaving them. It was only after I learned that they didn’t let the other two girls off the hook like me, that I started to have doubts. Honestly, I think they let me go because I was too opinionated…always during the Rabbi’s talks I asked him questions and stood up for my beliefs on a number of occasions. The Rabbi loved this and gleefully answered all of my questions, calling me smart and intellectually curious. However, in the Yeshiva, I don’t think this would have flown. But I was happy…now another extra week in Israel. Tyeta Toma asked me each day how the brainwashing was going, and laughed when I told her about the Yeshiva. Eh…oh well.

That night, since the other two girls were leaving, we decided to go out and celebrate. We went to Ben Yehuda in Jerusalem, and had drinks to celebrate new friendships. I also had my first “nargilla” in Israel which was not that great at all.

The rest of the trip’s highlights are learning to make Challah and the amazing Jeep ride in the Judean desert. When I was standing overlooking the Ashkelon Valley, in that moment I felt G-d. I think I will always remember that moment connecting me as a Jew to the Land of Israel. Brainwash or no brainwash, this trip really made me think about my Jewish identity, and connect it to Israel. Nowhere else have I felt such a connection to land (me? Nature?) even moreso to the people, who I don’t really understand. Israeli culture baffles me…even when I look around and constantly remind myself “Everyone’s Jewish! He’s Jewish and she’s Jewish…and he’s jewish….etc” Israelis look different than American Jews, act different, and have different values. It’s hard to find a balance between loving Israel but not Israelis…more to come…

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Shalom de Israel!

Wednesday June 24, 2009 Knerret, Israel

I arrived in Israel two days ago by saying goodbye with my present reality and looking forward. This trip was supposed to be (for practical reasons) a good opportunity to meet Russian Jews in Chicago for social and professional reasons and (for spiritual reasons) an opportunity to explore the role of Judaism and religion altogether in my life.

So, extremely mentally and physically exhausted, I boarded my flight to Tel Aviv via Rome on Sunday with no thoughts but to get some sleep on the plane. The flight was fairly turbulent, but I had two whole seats to myself so that was nice. My first nudge towards religiosity came when the flight attendant double checked to make sure I had explicitly ordered a kosher meal. Right.

In Rome, I felt a sense of familiarity (the whole 2 hours I was there) and smiled happily upon seeing a plane from Uzbekistan airways, a reminder of my journey to the past last summer. When I arrived in Tel Aviv, dazed and tired, (oh yeah make tuna with kidney beans, corn, and salsa…delicious!) I waited for my bags about an hour. Upon realizing that alas they were lost (per usual) I hurriedly walked towards the Alitalia counter to make a claim that my baggage was in fact lost. Another hour of frantic waiting ensued, altogether exacerbated by the fact that I knew that beyond those doors, a member of my family was most likely worrying to death that I had not arrived.

Finally, I made my way through the doors into the frantic tears of my Tyeta Toma, who had the whole airport alert on my disappearance. She was so shaken up, I couldn’t help but laugh at how similar she was to my own Mama, not only in appearance, but in character and franticness.

I went with her to H&O (that’s right, use your imagination) to get some new clothes for my impending trip, and then we went to her small settlement, Alfe Menashe. She explained to me that they were right on the border with Palestine (and when I was right, I mean look to the left Palestine, right Israel) and had built a house there because, in true Russian Jew style, the land was cheaper. She pointed out a taxi in front of us with a green license plate as being a Palestinian cab. Not scary at all for my first 2 hours in Israel. My cousin and uncle greeted me, and we went for my first meal in an Israel strip mall…shish kebab and Israeli salad. Yum!

Then we drove to Jerusalem to meet my group. As we drove I called the hotel to make sure everything was ok, and they claimed not to have any American groups…per usual. But in the end it was the right hotel. At this point, there was no emotion processing and I could only think of my bed, even as we entered and there were Orthodox women running around everywhere at a wedding.

The next morning I woke up in a room with three other Russian Jewish girls. When I asked them how the trip was going they said, “eh. It’s ok” This made me a tad bit nervous as their lack of enthusiasm seemed a bit daunting. Luggage or no luggage, I made my way downstairs and met the rest of my group, which was quite nice. I fit in quite well, and really liked the girls on the trip. The first lecture was a Chasidic rabbi who claimed he was not proving the existence of G-d, which in fact he was. But he was alright and a funny speaker. Soon after, my luggage arrived (thankfully!) and we took a bus to the Negev desert for a “hike.” Ladies and gentlemen, let me tell you that taking a hike over a steep mountain covered in desert sand and rocks in 95 degree weather the day after not only your graduation but an 18 hour journey…is not a good idea. About halfway up I began to get the usual signs of heat exhaustion, and decided to not be that girl who passes out in the Israeli desert on the first day by making my way down the mountain and back to the air conditioned bus. Israel 1, Stella 0.

Afterwards, we drove through the desert windy roads to a Bedouin oasis to ride camels, my Camel Buddy, Masha, and I named our camel Moshe…and he was a wily one! The desert was absolutely stunning in its enormity and the beauty of the sunset over the sand dunes. Sitting on the camels while they stand up and sit down is not an easy task. Nature’s own roller coaster?

Bedouin dinner was served in the tents and was a plov-like dish with shish kebabs. At this point I was keeling over in tiredness, and soon after the Bedouin hospitality (tea and music) I hobbled over to our sleeping tent and passed out. What seemed like a few restless minutes later, I heard screaming and woke up to find the girls giggling and scrambling around. Apparently there were bugs everywhere and a fox jumped over one of the girls, Lina. Paying no heed I turned over and fell back asleep. However, the girls had other plans. Being finicky Russian Jews, they decided the tents were not meant for human sleeping, and shlepped mattresses onto tabletops in the moonlight. I was NOT going to be the only one in that infested tent, so I took to the tabletops as well. By this point it was 1 am and our wake up time was 4 am.

We got some sleep and woke up at 4 am to go see sunrise at Masada, an ancient fortress in the middle of the desert where thousands of Jews committed suicide one night, rather than be Roman slaves. We were of course running late, and had to shlep up the mountain in lightning speed to catch the sunrise. Usually this is not my thing, but boy let me tell you. It was AMAZING. We could see the Dead Sea and mountains in the distance, and desert everywhere. There was a feeling of friendship and camaraderie amongst everyone after the Bedouin tent debacle, and I don’t know what it was, but there was something special in the air at Masada.

We toured around Masada and heard the breathtaking story, then funiculared our way down (Snake path down the mountain? Pass!) to the bus. Soon we were on our way to the Dead Sea….I had my first scuffle with the Orthodox staff upon our arrival and announcement of separate sex beaches. Seriously? But then again, as one of them pointed out, we payed a lot less than we were supposed to so we had to follow the sexist (in my view) rules. The girls beach was tinnnny in comparison with the boys, and a little wall led not enough out to the sea to swim. The poor Orthodox women had to float like 8 inches from the rocky ground to not risk being seen by male eyes.

I loved it! The warm felt milky warm but oily in texture. Things started burning everywhere because of the salt, but the view and feeling was breathtaking. After a while, the burning (don’t ask where) got too much and we made our way out. Aggressive Russian saleswomen tried to sell us overpriced creams before we managed to make our way out to the gift shop and to the bus. It was 10 am and we had already hiked Masada, had breakfast (Kosher of course) and swam in the Dead Sea. What’s next? Hike of course!

We drove to Ein Gedi, a waterfall filled climb up a mountain with natural springs. Again, hiking=not my forte, but as soon as we jumped into the waterfall spring area, it all became worth it. Although it wasn’t too large and there were a lot of people swimming, it was super fun. The water felt perfectly cold and in stark contrast to the hot Israeli sun. It was glorious! After hiking down the beautiful mountain, we got on the bus for three hours to a small city by the Knerret, the biggest freshwater lake in Israel.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

Namaste!

Namaste from Mumbai! 8/26/08


Where did i leave off? Oh yes, sitting at the airport in Delhi. I took a train to my Jet airways flight and got quite comfortable right away in business class. The flight attendant came around with drinks and I took the first risk of the day by trying a mango juice...and I loved it! Everyone looked at me quite strangely (which I'm getting used to) and I looked confusedly at the breakfast menu trying to figure out which choice was perfect for my first Indian breakfast. After ordering something (???) I tried to engage the businessman next to me in conversation about what exactly was on my plate....interesting to note was that his English was not that great, or maybe it's the fact that I'm used to people understanding my accent. Anywho, I tried a bit of all the foods and then stared out the window at the beautiful cloud formations above India. Soon enough, we started landing in Mumbai and I began to notice 1) how green everything was 2) how quickly countryside turned into little shacks 3) there was a huge slum right next to the airport, in fact adjacent to the runway! 4) wow, that must be so loud for the people living there, although im sure that's the least of their worries.





I got off the plane and excitedly grabbed my luggage. I tried to find a restroom but was redirected by helpful workers who must have thought I looked confused or something and pointed me to the baggage claim. Mumbai's airport was MUCH nicer than the one in Delhi, and was full of business people of all kinds (though mostly Indian). I was a bit of an anomolous traveler. Excitedly I walked out of the airport and found Neha! It was a joyous reunion, and then i met man candy himself. They greeted me with the most beautiful blue and white flowers (how did they know that those are the unofficial colors of Jewish people?). We got the car and began the first of many drives through Bombay.

Vivek and Neha pointed out a bunch of monuments and temples, while I marveled at how Vivek managed to drive without killing us in the relative chaos that is Bombay traffic. I was struck by how many people there were everywhere and how you could never expect what you saw. Sometimes there'd be a strip of slums followed by a Ferrari store, followed by a temple, followed by juice stands. The streets were fairly dirty, but even from the beginning, Bombay reminded me of an underdeveloped and exponentially more crowded Los Angeles. Vivek informed me (with Neha interrupting every two seconds) that Bombay was comprised of seven islands and as a result, it was impossible to build skyscrapers. The city can't get any bigger unless it grows out, but it can't build up. And although it is growing out, people are refusing to move to the "New Bombay" because it's too far. Anywho, at the end of this car ride, we turned into a steep and curvy driveway leading up to Neha's apartment building. A man came and opened my door, and then we stepped into an ancient elevator (you know those ones with the metal part you close and then you can see each floor pass). Even there, there was an elevator operator guy whose job was to ride up and down on the elevator all day.


We rode up to the the top floor, and I entered Neha's beautiful apartment. I was struck by how modern it was, and the beautiful view of the Arabian Sea that can be seen from each window. Auntie came and I hugged her, and commented on how pretty the apartment is. I got the royal tour of the place, starting with Neha's gorgeous room, done up by graphic designer Didi. The walls are turquoise with spongue printing, and lots of handprints. It's also ginormous, and has a beautiful swinging bench that overlooks the sea. A treadmill (very dusty) also stood by another window. Wooden cabinets conceal all the shoes and clothes Neha owns. The living room also has a bench swing overlooking the sea. I never saw the kitchen, but I did begin to see the "servants" which was greatly unsettling. I wasn't sure exactly how to address the two older ladies in saris, and the men in loose white uniforms who scuttled about the three larger rooms and then disappeared into the kitchen. The other thing I noticed right away was this little shrine room with idols of Krishna, beautifully and intricately decorated with flowers, petals, and spices as a result of a holiday the day before. It was really beautiful, with the designs forming birds, flowers, and swirls. Krishna himself was sitting on a swing with a string that you could swing him on.


We (Neha, Auntie, Vivek and I) sat down for an Indian brunch. We had idlees, the little pancakes, and sambar, a soupy dip, along with a bunch of other Indian specialties. I was struck by the servants putting food on my plate while Auntie spoke orders to them in Hindi. Honestly, I've never felt so superbly uncomfortable, or unable to respond. Lunch was fabulous, and I was on the verge of collapse from jetlag as Neha went to work. Instead of getting up and cleaning things off from the table, everything was left there for the servants to clean up. The cook came out and I complimented the food (kahana bhot ach cha). I also learned how to address people with a folded hands bow and a "namaste."


Auntie and I chatted for a bit, then I passed out for two hours. After, I found her sitting at her desk overlooking the sea, and she called for coffee and mushroom toast which a servant brought in. (danyavad) Although Neha had told me of the joyous wonders that is coffee at her house, even I was struck by how delicious it was...soon, Shweta arrived (after getting lost on the way home, the driver had to go collect her on a random street). We chatted for a bit, then went for a drive around Bombay. Again I marvelled at how people drive in this city, and said silent prayers underneath my breath and our driver (Thakur) magically kept us alive. People randomly crossed the street and cars seemed to follow no system. We passed by dilapidated apartment buildings, made to look older than they actually are by persistent monsoon rains beating down on their exteriors day after day. Bombay's skyline is absolutely breathtaking, and a street called Marine Drive (Neha has told me so much about it!) offers the opportunity to see how vast this city really is. We went to the Oberoi hotel and shopping center to get a first glimpse of Mumbai's wares. I began to notice, again, how much people were staring at me. The stores were tiny, but expensive, and I was so impressed by the beautiful jewelry, shoes, and scarves.


In a bit, we went to the Gateway of India, an arch reminiscent of Napoleonic arches built to welcome some British royalty. It is the first thing one sees upon entrance from the sea. Unfortunately, it is under restoration so I couldn't see it too closely, but we walked around the perimeter. There were a bjillion people there, like everywhere else in Bombay, and streetsellers sold their wares and made food to the tourists gathered. Thank goodness Shweta was holding my hand and could feel my initial apprehensiveness because I was so aware of the eyes staring at me so obviously because I absolutely did not fit in. This was the first time in my travels that I could be discriminated against (or favored!) just because of the way I looked. I can now sympathize with those whose skin color is noticed and noted at first glance, but honestly, after the first couple of days I got used to it.


We went to a shoe store, and bought absolutely too many beautiful shoes (can you ever have too many shoes?). The shoe shops here all have this hold in the ceiling as the shoes are kept up in the attic, and whenever a size is needed the shopkeeper (as I'm writing this, the Nepali maid just came in to sweep the floor) yells up to the hole and the right size is thrown down by a magical (I think the maid just asked me if i was hot?) seemingly invisible force (a guy sitting up there) halway across the shop. Neha joined us in the fun. Honestly, i'm having the time of my life here. Indian hospitality is insane, and I feel like a part of the family. Auntie is like my Indian mom, and we have spent so much time together. We all make fun of each other, and it's so natural. Thank you Northwestern for giving the opportunity to be sitting here in India (IN INDIA!!! halfway across the world from Chicago!) talking about my extended Indian family.


Anyway, we went down this street with tons of vendors and wanderers selling these weird slimy beads (???) and pashminas. I was told to shut my mouth and not show how much I liked things, as prices are tripled when they see you're a tourist. Auntie bargained for some wares, and Shweta held my hand in the pandemonium of the street. There are just so many people everywhere, all the time! And honestly, the poverty I've seen here is of course extreme, but it is not what I was bracing myself for, at least not in Bombay. Honestly, there are more people sitting and begging for money in Chicago than in the streets I have seen. Sometimes people sit with babies on the street and just be, playing or eating, or just generally being unemployed, but the only extreme poverty can be seen in the slums which mark the streets.


On the extreme opposite end, I seem to living the high roller life, as Neha, Shweta, and I went to the Intercontinental's open air, all white lounge for cocktails and meeting Neha's school friends. It was a gorgeous lounge, something I would have expected in New York or a scene from Sex and the City. We ordered martinis and snacked before Neha's friends arrived. I was getting quite tired at this point, but met Neerav, Deesha, Ashish, and ...Sanket...the EX BOYFRIEND!!! I exchanged looks with Neha, and hoped she saw that I approved very much more of Vivek, the charming gentleman, than Sanket, the pudgy boy sitting in front of me, ignoring eye contact.


Neha invited them over for dinner, which is served here late, like in Spain. They arrived and the servants quickly came out with water and coffee, as these spoiled kids (ok i'm sorry Neha for applying my Western viewpoint, but I could not bear to see these older men bow to kids who were joking around and didn't even say thank you) nonchalantly lounged and chatted. We had masalas and honestly, I don't even remember I was so tired. I could not wait to go to sleep.


At about 4 AM, I woke up ready to start the day, and then realized it was dark...and 4 AM. Damn jet lag! I rolled around and pretended to sleep until everyone got up. After a healthy breakfast and the delicious coffee, I began to raid Neha's closet for a suitable salwar. She pulled out one after the other and finally we found one that fit. When Auntie came in and saw me, she gave me a big hug and told me I'd fit right in. (yeah right). They are so comfy and breezy! Anyway, Neha, being the important reporter for India Today, had an important article to write about a new photo exhibition so we went to go check it out. It was all of these pictures of Bombay from the turn of the century, and all of the rich nazeem's and maharajah's. We even saw the place where the Gateway of India now stands, without the famous monument but with British ladies in huge hats sipping tea on the grass. (YES! I just told the maid I was ok and didn't need anything in Hindi!!! nehi chehi ye...me theek hoom)


Then, we went to the (former) Prince of Wales museum which is really, really pretty! Neha tried to pass me off as a local for a reduced ticket price, which obviously didn't work, so after multiple inspections and a free audio tour guide for my foreigner ticket, we went inside the museum. Neha had just written an article about it for India Today, explaining its Indian-Sarconic style (yes? Im not quite sure what that means) but it reminded me of the British Museum in London. There was an exhibition about Harappan civilization and ancient statues of gods like Krishna and Durga. It was really cool! The idols are almost identical today. We saw Chinese pottery, ancient structures, and beautiful Buddhas.

Soon we left, and Neha went to go retrieve her umbrella, as she had been forced to check it in due to security (??). The man at the desk was involved in a squabble which Neha explained to me made no sense as they were arguing over calling each other idiots. Soon Neha got her umbrella and we made our way to the Jehangir art gallery to look at some modern art (really strange) before settling down for some water at Cafe Samovar. At my request, we made our way to Fab India, a store selling kurtas (long shirts) dupattas (the scarves that go with salwar kameez) and various other Indian clothing. I was excited because in the CD's of learning Hindi which I used before coming here (utterly worthless thus far, OK untrue but I thought I knew more before coming than I actually did) there was a segment where we learned colors based on a shopping trip to Fab India. As I entered, I knew I was screwed because of 1) the variety of merch 2) the crowd perusing aforementioned merch 3) im a sucker for Indian clothes. I was literally like a kid in a candy store as Neha tried to help me be sensible and try some kurtas I would actually wear. We got a bunch and I tried them on. For some reason, my calculations came out to be about $75 for 4 pairs of pants (two breezy salwars, and two tighter chadoors both in black and white) 3 kurtas and 2 dupattas (black and white) at the cash register, it turned out to be more like $150. We left the store and I panicked, poor Neha had to take me back to return 2 pairs of pants and one kurta to make the price more manageable. Honestly, I was having a bit of a panic attack after the fab india interlude.

Thakur (the driver) met us and drove us to pick up Shweta then to a cafe called Moshe's which was started by a Jewish Indian. I kissed the mezuzah as I walked into the cute cafe, another place I could easily imagine in any other big city, and read the sign about when Madonna patronized the same restaurant only a year back. We sat down and ordered chillers, and had salads and sandwiches with nice conversation. The funniest thing happened when Vivek called and said he could see us through a security camera his company had installed right above our table! He went so far as to compliment my dupatta, and we were royally freaked out.

Afterwards the girls had to go to work, so I went off to meet Vivek in his office. Thakur dropped me off and I made my way past the confused stares of uncles and businessmen to meet Vivek. He told me about his company, LiveDarshan which he started right after college. Through five years of failures and hard work, he has come to find success and self-fulfillment as an entrepreneur. I listened with great anticipation to his story, as Shweta joined us after "accidentally forgetting her computer charger at home. I couldn't do any work!" Soon we went off as Vivek, the patient and knowledgeable tour guide, showed us around Mumbai. We saw Victoria Terminal, the beautifully British train station, and fashion street, a long (really long!) stretch of sellers vending wares rejected by the West at discount prices. Walking down the street, he pointed out the street vendors selling this popular drink made of crushing the juice from sugar canes. It was really, really dirty and there were people just lying around on the streets, not begging for money though, just sitting around. We passed by the building which houses the highest courts, and saw men with typewriters offering people to fill out forms as their livelihoods. In this part of the city, I saw the most dilapidated buildings which still held a sort of beauty, but I was glad to get in the car and get going.

Against Shweta's vehement protests, we went to the Hare Rama Hare Krishna temple, where Vivek explained to me the philosophy of this interesting and money hungry sect. I've been to a temple like this twice in the states, but it was still interesting to see how ornate and identical it was those ive seen before. After, we went to Soam for chaat, yummy yummy street food (which my Western stomach will not let me buy off of the street). It was delicious and one of my favorites of Indian food...Lord help me with these spellings...panee puri, sev puri, little fried balls which you crack open and pour things into...i can't really explain it, but it is sooo delicious!

Soon after Neha joined us, and we went to the most peculiar of places. In the middle of the city, there is a small lake called the Banganga. It is like descending into a village where children are running around and there are temples everywhere. It is a super holy place as Ram is supposed to have been here before, and it looks like what I imagined the Ganges to look like, with the ghats (steps). Here, people stared at me like never before and some even followed us around. My most inspiring moment, and a moment I will never forget, which really describes how I feel about India, came when we stepped up to a walkway by a temple which led to the sea. As we walked closer and closer, Vivek pointed out a jetty of secluded land and a private mansion where the governor of Mumbai lives. I walked closer and closer to the edge, nearing the beautiful visage of the sea at twilight...I was expecting rocks or a beach or something, honestly I wasn't expecting anything, but as I reached the banister, another slum, right underneath the temple came into view. My body responded physically to the unexpected slum with repulsion, and Vivek explained that this real estate was the most expensive in Bombay, yet it was the location of another slum. Some of the little shacks even had satellite dishes! I have read that India is full of contradictions and unexpected surprises, and in this moment I truly experienced this for myself.

To top off this magnificent day, Neha, Shweta, and I went over to Neha's Nani's house (her mum's mum) for dinner. After freshening up and changing salwars, we drove to another section of Bombay. We rode up the lift to another penthouse which was beautifully decorated. A servant answered the door, and we met Nani, a beautiful Indian grandma with always a smile on her face and the kindest of hearts. I namasted her, and we sat down as Nani smiled at me and I awkwardly sat listening to the Hindi flying around. I also met Neha's grandpa, and some other family, Didi and Auntie. They gave me a grand tour of the beautiful apartment, where Auntie grew up, and where all of Auntie's three brothers and their families live. As is traditional, Auntie went to live with her husband's family after marriage. We saw bedrooms, and the kitchen where the servants awkwardly stared as we walked by. they had beautiful art, including a pair of decorated tusks (!!) from China, a beautiful jade fountain thing, and a silver dancing Krishna statue similar to the ones I'd seen in the museum earlier. I honestly felt as if I was in a different world, yet again. I've noticed that people here have buttons that they press when they want something, and a servant walks by, or even when anyone walks in, a servant always comes with water to offer the guest...

Nani prepared a traditional Marwari dinner for us, something Neha informed us only happened a couple of times a year on festivals, so I felt supremely honored to be experience a part of longstanding family tradition. Each person had these huge silver plate/bowls with smaller bowls on the inside. Servants came around and put a scoop of rice with chick peas on the plate. Nani came around and mixed everyones food individually with her hands, adding all the different foods in the bowls for flavor, then she took a bite and fed it to Neha, me, Shweta, and Didi. It was the cutest, most grandmotherly love expression I have ever seen. And always with a smile on her face. Neha had warned me that I would be pushed to eat until the point of no return, so I made sure to say "bas" (enough) anytime servants came around with more food. We had homemade gulab jamin which I've found to be extremely tasty here. We chatted as we ate, then washed our hands. I requested a picture of the women in the family since there were three generations present, then we sat and chatted for a bit. I forgot to mention that in the beginning, Nani gave Shweta and I bracelets with little notes that said "with love and blessings, Nani" on them. It was one of the sweetest, most culturally enriching evenings of my life. Here I was, in Bombay, sitting with Neha's extended family in her grandma's apartment. I felt truly blessed and lucky.

I couldn't help but give Nani a hug upon leaving, but then noticed everyone else bowing and kissing her feet. Oops. I couldn't help it, she was too huggable. At home, we passed out and I slept my first full night in India.

Thursday August 28th.

Today I woke up fully refreshed and had breakfast with Auntie. there was this yummy corn thing with toast (corn, flour, milk, cheese and mushrooms yum) with the amazing coffee. After lunch, Auntie and I went shoe shopping after another harrowing car ride. We then went bangle shopping...we walked into the shop and i knew again, i was screwed. everything was just too gorgeous and sparkly...then i saw the price. The most beautiful of bangles was no more than 50 or 60 rupees which is like $1.20. Most of them were 15 rupees! The shopkeers kept pulling out more and more, and i got tons of bangles in varying colors, all gorgeous and sparkly. It seemed I couldn't get enough and I began to get that panicky feeling again, but Aunty encouraged my ruthless spending by offering more and more beautiful bangles i could not resist. No girl needs as many bangles as i bought. there were four huge bags of bangles. but i love every single one of them.

After the bangle buyout, Auntie and i went for tea at the Cricket Club of India, a place where until some time back there used to be a sign that read "no dogs or Indians." We sipped tea and munched on these little sandwiches, sitting next to a cricket field where workers tended to the grass, chatting for more than an hour. The place was British to the max, with leather armchairs and woodwork, I could totally have imagined the Brits here having high tea and talking politics. Neha joined us and we went to the Rhythm Room, a DVD/CD shop where bought about 100 Bollywood films. Then, at my request, we went to visit a synagogue called Knesset Eliyahu. It was gorgeous! A bright blue wonder in the middle of Bombay. Im sure people have no clue what it is, but it is one of the most beautiful synagogues I have ever seen...we went inside and I excitedly kissed the mezuzah...(more here)

The Taj is a truly majestic hotel right next to the Gateway of India. It is a five star hotel with a Louis Vuitton, Bulgari, etc. on the inside, and Auntie told me it was impossible to get a room there without a seven month long waiting list. We went to the top, to the Sea Lounge, where a man was playing "Lady in Red" and other Western pop hits on a black grand piano. Neha and I decided to go for the high tea buffet after eyeing the beauitful little desserts. It was amazing! We got a window seat and had a beautiful view of the Gateway while sipping tea and eating chaat and tarts...soon Shweta joined. It seemed my life had become some sort of a fairy tale...

A bjillion laughs and calories later, we rushed out to catch a play in the experimental theater. It was the famous Indian actor Naseeruddin Shah performing "The Prophet." The play was great, he was an outstanding orator, and the wisdom from the book was orated beautifully.

Afterwards, we walked along Marine Drive, enjoying Bombay's skyline. Then it was back to the Taj for an Indian-Chinese dinner, where i was to meet Sameer, Didi's husband, and Neha's cousin. Shweta, Vivek and i arrived first and sat down at a large square table. I got the menu and was astonished to find many grammatical errors in the introduction. Then Auntie and Neha arrived and we started complaining about how big the table was, which turned to making fun of Neha's loud and booming voice, which turned to making fun of Vivek's choice of table. It was so much fun just all making fun of each other, which yes, inevitably turned to making fun of my loud laugh. Sameer and Didi came, followed by Neha's cousin whose name I cannot spell just yet and we had Dim Sum and some chinese which is different than US Chinese. It was such a fun and playful dinner, just like a big family.

After, we came home and sat for a while. Auntie, Neha, Vivek and I got into a "discussion" (read: argument) until 4 AM about the merits of corporate choosing of products....

Friday August 29th

Today Neha and Shweta had to work, and Uncle (whom I have not seen yet) had a surgery so I just slept, read, and wrote here. Soon Neha will arrive and more adventures will come...

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

ITALIA

3 Diciembre 2007, Lunes

Since it´s Monday, I got up early and went to volunteer at good ol´ Sacrado Corazón de Jesus. Today, I was informed that the kids were working on posters of their favorite pop stars/actors, in English. Before class, the girl who asked me to be easy on her skipped up to the table and proudly told me she received full marks on the oral test to which I replied…¨Muy bien!¨The kids were all chatting away working, and I drifted from group to group helping and chatting with all of them. The first group was sooo cute, it was about 6 girls and one 1 boy sitting stubbornly. I walked over and immediately saw why the boy was so grumpy: the girls were decorating with hearts and flowers a poster dedicated to their hero, the heartthrob Zac Efron. I asked the girls if they thought he was ¨guapo¨and of course they all melted on the spot, sighing and giggling. The solitary boy rolled his eyes. I told them that they had to learn English so they could talk to Zac when he came to Spain, hehe…The teacher informed me that last year, the class learned the final dance from high school musical and performed it for the school which was apparently ¨preciosa.¨ She asked me to talk about my life next week for the kids, which in the US is quite different from their own.

The next group was working on a poster of Bart Simpson, while other worked on a Spanish actor, a Smackdown wrestler guy, and of course, Rihanna. It was funny to read their English descriptions, because I could tell where most of their mistakes came from, knowing grammar quite well in Spanish (at least I hope so by now). The following class, which I have found quite frustrating the past few weeks due to the fact that this one boy likes to ask me about ¨carne con tomate¨every few minutes. I don´t understand what is so funny, and I totally get the whole making fun of the substitute crap, having gone through that myself. Today, I taught them about how we call ¨pop¨different things in the US.

After an increasingly boring el mundo actual class, I met up with Cristina for a delightful hour of intercambio. Today, we taught each other colloquial phrases. For example, ¨mete la pata en el gazpacho¨ (stick your foot in the soup) means to be mistaken…hmmm…The hour flew by, as usual.

After class, Natalia and I went shopping for a bit, as prices are expected to go up for the Christmas season…I came home quite late and had a fabulous dinner of lentejas and tomatoes with cheese for dinner. God I love Spain.

Oh also, in Macarena´s class we got graduation sashes which are Spanish colors and have the flag on them! Tomorrow Italia!!!!

4 Diciembre 2007, Martes…ROMA

This morning, I went to class, had intercambio with Cristina, where I taught her the wonders of Facebook, and then ran home to grab my things before the plane. My señora made me lunch, and I scampered off after eating fried shrimp, potato salad (ensaladilla rusa), and tuna with peppers. I ran to catch the bus in front of Plaza Nervion, and totally spaced out. I don´t know if I have mentioned this before, but in Sevilla, to catch a bus you must flag it down, like a taxi. I knew Natalia was coming on the special Airport route bus, but like I said, was spacing out like crazy. All of a sudden, the airport bus whizzed by….Natasha called me frantically asking why I hadn´t made the bus, and I blamed the driver for not stopping (it was my own fault). Hehe, oh well, I caught the next bus, half an hour later, and made it to the airport just in time to miss standing in line for thirty minutes.

I took a picture of this amazing sign, which once again makes me question how hard it is, really, to get a translator to check grammar before printing something…the sign said ¨do you wish a grill meat?¨On the plane, Natasha surprised me with a Hanukkah gift of Cosmo in Russian! I was so surprised, I had been wanting to buy one, but always denied myself the guilty pleasure…The flight literally flew by! Nata and I are somewhat lack in planning, we usually have a general idea in what we want to see, but let ourselves go with the flow instead of planning out every single minute of our trips. We were joking around because in the Clickair (our airline) magazine, they had recommendations for Christmas markets in Roma and Venezia, which I tore out and we counted as part of our ¨planning.¨

We landed in Roma, and searched for the train to Termini, the largest station. After finding our hostel, Lilliput Hostel, which was quite close to Termini, we tried to buzz in. It was located in this pleasant little courtyard with a Christmas tree in the middle. We called the place and were told to wait just a few minutes. We waited and waited, and then came in a young tio with the saggiest pants I have ever seen, I don´t know how many laws of gravity these bad boys were defying by not falling down. Natalia and I gave each other a ¨look,¨as baggin´ saggin´pants boy said, ¨Buena sera, I am Lorenzo, welcome to Roma¨in about as Italian of an accent as you can get. Once again I learned to never judge a man by his pants…(hehe)

The hostel was the cutest thing ever. No wonder it was called Lilliput hostel because it was tiny! It was just one room, very kitschy decorated in pink and blue, with a kitchen and 3 bedroom off of it. He gave us the keys, and since I am pretty sure we were the only ones staying there, we basically had our own apartment in Rome!! For dinner, we went to a neighborhood Italian restaurant recommended by the pants, I mean man, himself, Lorenzo. We we soooo excited to be in Italy that we ordered Waaaayyyyyyyy too much. Appetizer: brushetta. For the first course I had this amazing seafood ravioli while Natalia had minestrone soup to ease her aching throat. I let the waiter talk me into ordering a Roman specialty for the main course…oxtail…it was actually quite good, but I don´t think I would do it again. Natalia had manicotti…yum! And of course, for dessert we had tiramisu before heading back to the hotel and sleeping…

5 Diciembre 2007, Miercoles, ROMA

I woke up this morning in my warm little bed, full of opportunity and excitement. I made some tea while Nata showered and we somewhat planned our day. We stepped outside and headed in the direction of St. Maria Maggiore church. As we were crossing the street, I heard a woman say, ¨Let´s follow these girls, they look like they know what they are doing,¨in an Australian accent, to which I laughed in my mind. We walked inside the church, which was absolutely gorgeous, and a relief to the eyes after seemingly hundreds of gothic Spanish cathedrals. The church was a mix of Byzantine mosaic, baroque style ceilings, and lots of rich artwork. I remembered reading that Bernini was buried here, so I searched for a monument. Along the way, I made friends with the older Australian couple who had so much confidence in us. We wished each other luck in sightseeing and headed onwards.

Being hungry, Natalia and I stopped in a little café for breakfast, and my first Italian cappuchinno (it was FANTASTIC). As we headed out of the café we passed our Australian friends, as they saluted us, saying ¨Bongiourno!¨ heartily. I laughed so hard…imagine saying running into and saying bongiourno to the only two people you have met in such a giant city…oh fate. It turns out we were walking the wrong way, and as we tried to ask for directions to the colloseum, I realized we would have to use a mix of Spanglish to communicate with the tricky Italians.

Shaking my head in apparent disbelief and loss of faith in Natalia´s map skills, I realized we were right next to the giant theatre itself. It was the same as I last left it almost eight years ago, a testament to Roman greatness and show-offiness. ¨Gladiators¨roamed the street outside, ready for pictures while all kinds of vendors sold who knows what kind of crap. We took a billion pictures, and decided not to go inside, as I had already been, and Natalia realized that once you have seen a Roman ampitheater, you´ve seen them all. (Gosh, I feel so spoiled writing that…I only mean in styles).

We walked down to the Roman Forum, basking in the glow of ancient greatness. It was really quite beautiful, in a way that I can´t begin to describe and you, patient reader, just have to up and visit Rome yourself. I tried to solicit a student entrance into the Roman Forum by pretending to not know English (you can´t get a student discount if you´re not from the EU, damn Italians). It didn´t work, so Natalia and I headed onwards to see the monument dedicated to the unknown soldier, one of the most famous Roman buildings.

Of course, and do I even need to say this by now? It was under construction, but we still took pictures as it was quite beautiful. Next stop: Trevi Fountain, by way of a pharmacy because Natalia´s cough had gotten worse. We stopped at a market, and I bought my first souvenir, a pretty gold bracelet with blue murano glass. We headed to Trevi and were of course in awe of the complicated beauty of the transposition between water and art. Being incredibly touristy, we tossed pennies behind our backs, securing a return to Rome (I unknowlingly had been saving an American penny for three months to ultimately fulfill this purpose).

Pulling out the small scrap of paper I had torn out of the airline magazine, we headed for the Christmas market in Rome, by way of the Pantheon. I love the pantheon! I remember being in awe of it the first time when I was twelve, and intrigued to learn more about its mysterious history. Well, I´m a bum and haven´t read anything, but I will! I should mention, the weather was chilly but not unbearable, and the minimum number of other tourists made things much more enjoyable to sightsee. So after being amazed at the Pantheon and the hole in the roof and the perfect perportions, we headed to the Christmas market. After about three stalls, we decided to buy some chocolate from this grandpa who looked amazingly like Giupetto, grey moustache and all. Natalia picked out some of her beloved hazelnuts for two euros, and told me to pick whatever I wanted to share as well. Well, that is a dangerous thing to say to me when chocolate is involved, for I ended up picking out about 12 euro worth of chocolate. (it was an accident!) (ps with the exchange rate sucking as much as it has lately, that translates to more than 18 American dollars).

The market was full of witches on brooms, Italy´s version of Santa Claus. Also, lots of sweets, glass, and leather. After exhausting the market, we decided to head to the Jewish Ghetto (yes, I know, but that´s what it used to be, and I wasn´t even aware of its existence until Natasha told me she had read in a guide book that it was a good place to eat cheaply). We found the amazing and beautiful synagogue, in all of its glory, situated near the Tiber river. I almost flipped! It was so gorgeous, and there was a giant menorah standing outside. The guards searched us before we went into the Jewish museum, since there was a PLO bombing in the synagogue in 1982. We joined an English speaking tour after looking through the museum. The guide told us that the first Jewish ghetto was founded in 1516 in Venice (more info to come) and Rome´s came soon after. There were thousands of people forced into a tiny area where the doors were locked at night, and any time leaving the ghetto meant a Jewish person had to wear a yellow hat identifying them as a Jew. Since the ghetto is so close to the Tiber, there was lots of flooding each year. Also, Jews were only allowed to practice three professions, doctoring, lending money, and selling second hand stuff. (rags). That is why there are beautiful Torah covers in all colors, representing the bits and pieces of cloth the Jewish women saved, and later sewed.

As we walked up and into the synagogue, I gasped in shock and tears came to my eyes (seriously). It was absolutely beautiful! The Jewish people built it as a testament to their freedom following the Italian republic (1870s, but the building wasn’t built until the early 1900s). Since space had always been a luxury, the synagogue is large and airy, a display to the world that the old ways were over. The most beautiful part was this amazing ceiling pyramid dome thing, which was colored in all of the colors of the rainbow. Golden hanukkiahs stood at the front of the bimah, and it was just indescribably beautiful. The guide told us that many Italian Jews are neither Sephardic nor Ashkenazi, but have their own traditions, unsurprisingly called ¨the Italian tradition.¨Also, to mention, there were about 11,000 or so Jews in Italy when Mussolini and Hitler joined forces in persecution. About 2,000 were deported while the rest were saved by Christian citizens. Today, there are 13,500 Jews in Rome. (yay!)

After the tour, I bought a beautiful Star of David to add to my collection, and a mezuzah made of Murano glass. As we left, I was so happy and proud, I could have burst, but I was also quite hungry. Natalia and I began our obligatory restaurant search, but settled on a cute little place after passing by La Taverna del Ghetto. We ordered another Roman specialty of fried artichokes (yummm) and pasta. I was in my happy place.

There was so much Jewish stuff around! I took a picture with another menorah, and felt obliged to buy some Jewish stuff in the shops. They had these little one time use menorahs and candles, which I bought because of course I wanted to celebrate Hanukkah. As we left the ghetto, which was actually really gross and dilapidated, I could not imagine the more than 5,000 people who lived here at one time, all together crammed in there. Damn.

The next stop: the Spanish steps. At this point, it was almost dark, and yet again, buildings behind the steps were under construction, so we could not see too much. However, we walked the streets lined with shops and Christmas decorations. It was really cute. We decided to go back and see the Trevi fountain by night. There was this one crazy intersection where the people have to be really impudent (nagliy) or the cars will never stop, so we followed a group of Romans into oncoming traffic. As I said a silent prayer, Natalia turned to me and said, ¨You know what they say….when in Rome…¨to which we both just started laughing like crazy….

At the Trevi, we were told the ¨best gelato in Rome¨was nearby in a place called San Crispino´s. After much getting lost and looking, we found it, and were very much not impressed. The gelato, instead of flourishing out of metal bins, in curls and soft, lush goodness, was kept hidden in metal pots. We couldn´t even do the good gelato check, seeing what color the banana is (really yellow means it´s fake and colored, grey means it´s the real thing). We decided to just try it (even though it was overpriced as well). As we left the shop, I was clearly not impressed with my less than satisfactory straciatella. It was not fair to Natalia that her first Italian gelato experience was less than bellisimo…so after much debating, we decided it was worse to waste calories than money, and tossed that shit into the nearest trash can. After about a block, we saw people carrying fabulous gelato creations and asked them where they purchased the stuff. We got the good stuff and walked back to the Trevi fountain. We were sitting in Rome, eating gelato by the Trevi fountain (I repeat as an emphasis to how amazing it all was). After my butt got quite cold, we walked around for a bit before hitting the shops, which once again, I was not impressed. After a while we went ¨home,¨ (I swear it felt like home) to Lilliput. I got out my new little menorah, and lit my Hanukkah candles, feeling very Jewish, being displaced so many times (here, by choice thank goodness) but yet able to feel at home within the familiar melody of a blessing and the welcoming lights of remembrance.

7 Diciembre 2007, Jueves

This morning we got up earlier, and decided to go beat the lines at the Vatican. Everyone who had gone to the Vatican in our Sevilla program told us about how they stood in line for 3 or more hours just to get inside, so we were well prepared to handle the wait. We went to Termini and struggled through buying tickets in yet another language and finding our proper stop. We got off at the right stop, and followed the touristy looking people into the Vatican.

It was empty. There were so few people walking around that I wondered whether it was even open, or maybe it some obscure but very important saint´s day. We saw the barriers supposed to hold the tourists in, but there were no tourists, so confused but happy, we made our way into what we thought was the entrance into St. Peter´s. It wasn´t the entrance, but really the catacombs of some famous popes who we didn´t really care too much about seeing, but we did see the grave of Pope John Paul II, which was interesting. A loud voice boomed over the intercom (I know, intercoms in catacombs…weird, right?) ¨PLEASE OBSERVE SILENCE AND RESPECT WHEN WALKING THROUGH: THIS IS A HOLY PLACE¨ proclaimed a woman´s voice, while I couldn´t help but giggle at the contradiction of her announcement (my giggles echoed throughout, and I got some mean looks from fervent Catholics). Confused even more, Natalia and I walked out of the sacred pope burial area while I cursed under my breath…¨Fuck, oh wait no, shit! Oh wait still no, damn it! NO! What can I even say?¨

So we walked out and into old looking stuff (great description I know). I was so surprised by the apparent lack of security (not to mention people) that I told Natalia that maybe we should ask before just walking blatantly into St. Peter´s (the largest church on earth!). As we walked up the steps, I tripped and almost fell, while Natalia laughed and I felt like something was telling me I wasn´t so welcome here…I began to approach one of the Swiss guards when I turned and saw Natalia entering through a smaller door, not wanting to abandon my friend, I ran inside and was greeted by the immense presence of Catholicism embodied in the rich and grandiose interior of it´s most important place. I was excited to see Da Vinci´s ¨Pieta¨again, as I remember the last time I saw it, I couldn´t stop staring at its profound beauty (so ironic to think that I have been to the Vatican twice already in my life…). This time, you could take pictures so I walked around snapping photos of statues of zealous deceased popes and the like.

After a while, we headed towards the Vatican museum and Sistine Chapel. We had to ask for directions a few times because of the lack of people and directions, but finally we found our line, snaking around the corner of the wall fencing in the world´s smallest country. The line took approximately ten minutes, and was relatively unpleasant, as beggars and restaurant promoters took advantage of excited tourists to make their case. I hate to put it that way, because obvious I gave money to some of the poor souls who had nothing in the world to rely on but the good nature of tourists, but after a while here in Europe, (and I suppose elsewhere in the world this is profoundly more obvious) you realize you can´t help everybody. As idealistic as I like to think I am, it really is true.

Anywho, we entered the museum and it was beautiful, and rich and all that crap. But honestly, anytime (and I remember thinking this the last time I went to the Vatican when I was only 12) when I enter a church and the richness of it all dazzles me, I think of the poor people in the world whose lives would change forever if only a tiny, miniscule piece of the money and effort used to build these massive testaments to the church´s prosperity were used to benefit its most fervent believers. It really disgusts me, but then again, I can see how the world is a better place having such beautiful art….but I don’t think it´s worth the sacrifice….

So we walked through rather speedily, dodging the endless tourist groups, headed with one agenda…Sistine Chapel. Of course, it was spectacular. I prefer the Sistine Chapel to any gothic cathedral. One could spend days counting the details of Michelangelo´s greatest masterpiece, painted all over the walls and ceilings of the chapel, a work that took the artist more than seven years to complete.

After going through some of the other expositions, we decided we were Vaticaned out and decided to walk around the neighborhood in (very) nearby Rome. I was so hungry that when I passed by a place with the words ¨rustic pizza´´ I ducked in to have a bite…which ended up being a total tourist trap. I was expecting to pay something like 7 or 8 euros for the little food Nata and I ordered, but it was more like 20. After our breakfast, we hit the shops, me still (still!) searching for the perfect boots. Natalia still insists they are out there somewhere, waiting for me.

After a while, we returned to Termini and caught our train to Ciampino. Have I raged on about Ryanair yet? If yes, sorry, if not here goes… so Ryanair is the cheapest airline in Europe. When one books a flight they reel you in by telling you a ticket costs something like 0.10 dollars, and then once you´re through adding on all of their additional fees, the ticket can end up being 50 or 60 euros, still a steal. However, Ryanair flights are in airports far away from the city of choice, and generally are massively disorganized. So basically it´s a tradeoff between cheapness and sanity. Clear choice, no?

So the airport was more than an hour away from the city, and everything was closed for siesta in the Ciampino, meaning we went to a small café for lunch and then headed to the airport, sharing a cab with an extremely friendly Australian couple. At the airport we stood in line to check in for more than an hour (thanks Ryanair!) and met these two stereotypical American girls also flying to Venice. Once you study abroad, you begin to see where the stereotypes come from, and wonder if really they are as false as we assume they are. I don´t know how I even can describe this girl, here´s an example of something that drove me crazy…she has a Spanish roommate who says ¨no te preocupes¨(don’t worry) a lot, so this girl adopted ¨no tay pray¨as an abbreve….erggggghhhh

The flight to Venice was fine (ok I should mention that Nata´s ticket only cost 6 euro or 8 dollars which is crazy cheap for a flight). I slept most of the way, and was quite excited to get into ¨Venice.¨Once again, thanks Ryanair for landing us in Treviso, more than an hour and a half away from Venice. We stood in line at the tourist information booth while a very patient lady tried to explain to this confused Asian tourist why Padua was not anywhere near Venice….I was so anxious I wanted to hit this girl because we had to wait so long, and hear her directions so many times repeated…(patience is a virtue, I am aware)

So to get to Venice we took a bus for 30 minutes, then a train for more than an hour. But we arrived. And from the first few seconds, it was amazing. I love Venice. Who doesn´t? The directions for our hotel went something like ¨Cross the first big bridge you see. Walk a little bit then turn left after the second little bridge,¨but amazingly we found it without problems. And we went for an amazing Italian dinner during which I had my favorite pizza margherita…yum! Afterwards, we walked around the Lista de Espana, ironically the biggest street in our neighborhood, which was really nice. We had gelato for 1 euro which is the best gelato I´ve ever had, I think. Mmmmm…….

8 Noviembre 2007, Viernes VENEZIA

We woke up this morning and asked for breakfast recommendations from our hostel, and ended up going to this tiny little bakery between two canals, which was absolutely fabulous and amazingly cheap. All of the guide books I said mentioned that in Venice since there are so many tourists the prices are sky high, but since our hotel was in a non-as-touristy section, we were next to shops with less expensive prices for the same Murano glass and masks (the dominant buys in Venice).

After breakfast, we headed in the direction of the Jewish ghetto. After passing some signs in Hebrew, and crossing some bridges into a more dilapidated looking part of the city, we found it along with a large menorah in the central square. There was also a large wall with barbed wire that was a monument to the fallen Venetian Jews during the Holocaust. We went inside the musem and took the English speaking tour. The museum was filled with all things Jewish, but the tour was definitely the highlight. Venice actually had the first ghetto in the world, built in 1516 and the word ¨ghetto¨ itself (pronounced jetto in Italianio) means foundry in Italian, which is what was located on the land allotted for the Jewish ghetto. When the Ashkenazi´s arrived with their German accents, the soft ¨j¨sound turned into the hard ¨g¨of ghetto. Anywho, the ghetto is surrounded on three sides by canals which used to have walls by them, and Jews were locked inside the ghetto at night. If they wanted to go out during they day, they had to wear a yellow hat showing to all that they were Jewish. They were also only allowed to have three occupations: doctors, money lenders, and sellers of ¨second hand stuff.¨ Our guide was a stern looking Venetian woman with frizzy blondish hair (and a beautiful Star of David). We visited three of Venice´s five synagogues (I know, right) the first being a small Ashkenazi synagogue on the second floor of the museum, the second being an elaborately decorated French little synagogue, and the third a grandiose Spanish Sephardic synagogue which took my breath away. It was nice because I noticed that in our group there were not only some American tourists (who turned out to be from Wilmette!) but a large group of Germans who were definitely not Jewish as they asked what the menorah was standing outside.

After the tours I felt invigorated and ready to buy some Jewish stuff….which there was a lot of…in the first store I went to, a harsh looking man told me he made most of the beautiful menorahs, mezuzahs and other Judaica by hand, and I picked out some mezuzahs and two Stars of David to add to my collection. When it got time to pay, it was so funny because I was like, ¨How much?¨ and we wrinkled his brow and said, ¨How are you paying?¨to which I gave him a knowing smile since I knew where this was leading. He gave me a nice discount for paying cash and I took a picture with him. When I asked him if they had a lot of visitors he said, ¨Baruch hashem yes!¨

After the Jewish ghetto, we took a boat taxi winding down the Grand Canal (it was quite cold!) and saw the beautiful, grandeous but dilapidating and water damaged palaces along the canal. (time out, we actually had lunch first, and of course I had another amazing pizza margherita) When using a bit of imagination, one can see that back in the day, Venice must have been a sight, of course it still is, but more as kind of a symbol of what once was one of the most powerful and successful trading empires in the world. After getting of at San Marco, we went to see the church and piazza. Of course I told Natasha the story of how when I was little, (this is actually my third time in Venice) I peed by one of those most important monuments, the one with the symbol of Venice on it, the winged lion (I was two at the time). We went in to San Marco and once again saw an amazingly beautiful, but dark since there were few windows and Byzantine mosaics covered most of the walls and ceiling, church. San Marco is funny because mostly everything there was stolen by the Venetians, in fact, the body of Saint Mark is there, and was carried in a barrel of pig fat from Egypt in order to establish Venice as an ¨important city¨in the eyes of Christendom.

After exiting the church, we were greeted by the crazy and nagliy as hell pigeons of St. Mark´s square. These are not your regular birds, for they are smart and know exactly why they are there: to amuse tourists. They have gotten quite aggressive over the years and have no fear, flying in swarms literally attacking the poor children offering bread crumbs bought my complicit nearby sellers, while parents frantically take as many pictures of their children as possible. It´s quite a sight.


We then allowed ourselves to get completely lost, basking in the fun of wandering the narrow alleys and finding tiny canals. We were lucky that apart from the really big touristy spots like Piazza San Marco and the Rialto bridge, there were so few tourists. We ducked in and out of shops, seeing one man blowing glass and another painting masks. One shopowner told us about the Venetian heritage for masks, stemming from crazy Carnival celebrations, sometimes lasting six months! After a while we were tired, so we sat down to have a spritz (typical Venetian drink) and coffee. We ordered this amazing coffee with nutella dripping down the sides and whipped cream…yumm….In this little café the older waitress did not speak a word of English, however, for some reason they had an American rap music video channel on the TV, while cute Italian grandpas played cards in the back (unknowlingly) listening to Kanye. Hmmm….

Coming back to the hostel was a maze, and we were quite tired. I scattered all of my many Jewish purchases on the bed to glance at how it´s sometimes quite expensive to be Jewish. After resting for a bit, we headed out to walk the Lista de España, stopping at our favorite 1 euro gelato place. It was gorgeous and unbelievable, every few minutes I had to pinch myself and remind myself that I was in Venice. The beautiful Christmas decorations were hung and lit the streets with a happy glow as shoppers bustled down the sinking city, unaware of its staggering beauty. I, on the other hand, stopped and took about 1000 pictures. No joke.

For dinner, we stopped at a small restaurant which looked quite busy. I must stop and explain that the reason we could take so many days off of school was because it was a puente, or bridge meaning that in España, there was a holiday on Thursday (St. someone or other´s day) and instead of going back to work, Spaniards take a few days off. It was cool, because we saw a bunch of Spanish travelers, one couple with their noisy (but cute) baby were next to us in the restaurant. We had the best pasta ever, yum. I don´t know how they do it, but Italian food is just that much better in Italy. At the end of our meal, I was putting down my water glass when it somehow broke! I covered it with my napkin and told Natalia that um, maybe we should go? At that moment, the waiter came back with the receipt telling Natalia she had to sign, and also told her to put her address and number (he was joking but we were so on edge that we were like ¨he knows!¨) Entonces, I made a run for it, putting on my coat as fast as possible, and assumed that Natalia was right behind me….when I left the restaurant, I realized she, um, wasn’t. And only came out a few minutes later muttering ¨puta¨ (bitch) under her breath because apparently the waiter had seen and lauged it off….oops….

9 Noviembre 2007, Sabado VENEZIA-MILAN

Today we went to our favorite little bakery for breakfast again and I had the best cappuchino of my life, followed by this amazing croissant with Nutella. Mmm….we decided to spend most of the day enjoying Venice and take a later train to Milan. We, according to the Christmas market plan, began to search for the Venetian Christmas market, which turned out to be quite an adventure because it was in quite an obscure place. We passed by the most beautiful scenes of gondoliers floating by with tourists (usually giant hordes of Asians) and little alleys leading to empty piazzas. After passing through San Marco and having another go at the crazy pigeons, we finally found the little market and were somewhat disappointed. Maybe it´s that we´ve been to a million of these things by now and it takes a lot to impress. It was still cute, with the little wooden huts of vendors selling sweets, cheeses, and other goods. Red carpets lined with decorated Christmas trees filled the piazza, as lights strung from hut to hut illuminated the eager shoppers. We left that market and were wandering a bit until we ran into a real find, an antique market filled with locals. I could have spent hours looking at the old stuff lining the tables, everything from jewelry to silverware to shoes…

As we passed the Rialto, a Spanish couple heard us and asked if we wanted a picture. They took our picture, and we took theirs, speaking Spanish the whole time, and we were just happy to have been approached by Spanish speakers. Yay!

We weaved our way back to Lista de España, stopping by shops and losing our way many times, but happily. One funny thing that happened is that we could not, for the life of us find that jewelry store from the first night again, and we took many walks back and forth, recounting our first steps from the first night (¨This is where I stopped and commented that the banana gelato was too yellow for it to be good…¨) Turns out the shop closed! Natalia was quite sad, but we had to go catch our train to Milan, so we bought some wraps for lunch and hopped on the train.

To Milan the ride was something like four hours, but it didn´t seem that long, as I slept and alternated between reading Spanish and Russian Cosmo. Upon exiting the train in Milan, the first thing that came to sight was a HUGE (like ginormous) poster of Giselle Búndchen advertising for Dolce and Gabbana. I really wanted to go shopping in Milan, but we arrived right at 7:30, which in Italy is the time that shops close. (weird).

After wandering a bit, we took a cab to America Hotel, and were greeted by this very friendly little Italian gay guy. After much talking, we realized that once again, Ryanair screwed us over, and we would have to take a cab at 3:20 AM to the train station to catch a bus at 4:00 AM to the airport which was more than an hour away to catch our flight at 6:00 AM. Damn. We ate dinner at a small Italian restaurant nearby that he recommended, and had fun recounting all of the memories from all of the trips we have taken, as Italy was our last trip together. We toasted for memories made, and memories to come as an Italian chef tossed pizza dough in the background and I savored every delicious bite of my pasta.

We headed back to the hotel, and after lighting Hanukkah candles, called it a night…or so we thought. It was around 10 PM, and Natalia´s cough (pobresita) kicked in. Then we realized what the sign for ¨Rolling Stone¨on the first floor of our building was….one of the most popular discotecas in Milan. So then it started BUM BUM BUM BUM…techno house music….around 2 AM, I gave up and told Natalia we might as well catch an earlier cab to the station. We went downstairs and saw stumbling drunk jovenes outside of the club. I NEEDED a coffee so we went to a café next door and voila…they had Nutella crepes. Oy vey…that cappuccino and crepe may just have changed my life…

We got to the puta bus station, waited for the first bus, and boarded. Although we had decided earlier on that the best way to preserve our friendship was not to talk so early, we were full of laughter and chatty (I hope the people in front of us weren´t annoyed). The whole bus ride we talked about things that annoyed us in Spain, starting from no toilet paper anywhere, and ending with dictators like Franco.

When we got to the puta airport, we had to stand in line for over an hour (puta Ryanair). The highlights were a fat German baby, the girl in crazy stiletto boots, and when my phone mysteriously called Natalia´s although it was off and in my purse. So then we flew home, I slept most of the way, and felt once again at home once we got to beautiful Sevilla.

9 Diciembre 2007, Domingo

After coming back home and doing a bit of work, I passed out. Juan made lunch today as Señora left the house, and I didn´t have the heart to tell him the frozen dish he was heating up had bits of jamón in it. Oh well…afterwards, I decided to walk around (dar un paseo) which is what the whole world does on Sundays, dressing up the babies in their finest. Sevilla was playing at the stadium, so it was mass chaos in Nervión…I got off at Nervión plaza and spent the afternoon casually shopping, stopping to stare at the ice skating rink (I know!) in the center, and literally watching the ice melt.

10 Diciembre 2007, Lunes

Today was my last day at Sagrado, thank God. In my first class, I talked to the kids about my life, and being American. They did not understand me at all, and the teacher had to translate. I love that lady, Victoria, she was always really nice to me. Anywho, the best parts were when I told them that we were all mixed together in America, how some of my friends were from other countries and had other religions. One little boy pondered how someone could be Christian, but not Catholic, as the teacher (who didn´t know too much either it appeared) tried to explain what being Protestant meant, to which the boy just looked more confused. They were so surprised to learn that there were no motos in America, and I (I don’t know why) explained the concept of drive-up windows. In the end, the teacher thanked me on behalf of the class ¨Has sido muy amable, muy encantadora,¨blah blah, which was nice as the class applauded and we did the Spanish kiss (once on the right cheek, once on the left). She made me promise to come back to the school when I come back to visit. In the second class (which is the one I don’t like because the kids are cheeky) one boy asked me what ¨fuck off and die¨means...oyyyy

After leaving the school, I met up with Christina for a hearty session of intercambio. Then we had Macarena´s last class, and had coffee as a class afterwards. We reflected on our time here in Spain, and Macarena told us that we were changed forever as a result of living in a completely different culture, just as she had changed after studying abroad in Iowa over forty years ago. She told us that the easy part was coming here, the hard part would be to go back to our old lives, since we will think that time has stood still, but everyone has gone on with their lives back home as well. That struck a resounding chord with me, since I suppose in my mind, the relationships that I had with my friends have not changed, but it has been over six months since I have seen most of them. Although it certainly doesn´t feel like it at all…it was interesting to hear my American classmates´(and my American here, I mean people who grown up solely with American culture) opinions and revelations…about how life is so hectic in the States, and really, it doesn´t have to be. Reality is so subjective, but most of the time you don´t realize it until you come to another country and see that really, not everyone has the same mentality that you have.

11 Diciembre 2007, Martes

This morning I had my cine final, which was fabulous and I can´t wait to read what Luis says about my essay, since I wrote about the symbolism in Lucia y el sexo, one of my new favorite movies. During intercambio time, we all walked around Santa Cruz and I found this small antique store which had a lot of Jewish stuff, so I showed Cristina and Gloria what menorahs, the torah, a mezuzah, and ner tamid were, which hopefully was interesting for them.


We had our final presentation in Español para negocios, which was very easy. Afterwards we went to have tea at Aire de Sevilla, the Arab baths, with the teacher, Maria del Mar who I love. She told us the story of how she met her husband, which was quite interesting, and then in turn, asked each of us about our love lives…read…

Maria: ¨Y Estela, ¿tienes un novio?

Estela: ¨No, no lo tengo.¨

Maria: ¨¿Y PORQUE?

Estela: (loss of words)

Which wasn´t awkward at all you know. After tea I was fairly famished so Natalia, Petra and I stopped into Dos Columnas, a small tapas bar that is supposed to be one of the best in Sevilla, located seconds from the Giralda, for a small tapa. Yummmmmm……I should mention that I have been studying the history of the world….

12 Diciembre 2007, Miercoles

This morning Cristina invited me to come to her English Literature class where apparently her teacher is ¨loco.¨He was. They were learning about Hamlet today, and the teacher was this crazy little Spanish man who studied in Scotland so speaks in rapid English to a class of first year English students…writes speedily on the board, and erases even more speedily. I absolutely loved it, except I was the only one laughing when he made jokes, since I don’t think anyone else understood him…

I studied basically the rest of the day, coming home for lunch, and talking to my señora about xenophobia, since there is talk of a mosque being built in Sevilla. Señora told me something shocking today, apparently Velazquez, Sevilla´s most famous artist and one of Spain´s most famous, was Jewish! And yes, I wikipedia´d him afterwards and it seems to be so…

Tomorrow is my El Mundo Actual final, and then I´m done! We´ve all been reading Wikipedia articles like crazy for this class, because it´s basically the history of the whole world after World War II, so I just wikipedia random things and read about them, which I´ve found is quite a delight, and I hope to continue the trend upon my return.

13 Diciembre 2007, Jueves

This morning, we had our last cine class. Although when the professor asked everyone if they would come they all nodded enthusiastically, this morning when I walked into class, Natalia was the only one there, and I just started to laugh. Entonces, we watched a film called Los amantes del circulo polar, another Medem film, which I loved although the ending was really tragic. After class, we all Wikipedia´d things like crazy, which was very funny to me in my mind. I knew the teacher was going to ask about the Cold War for some reason, so I read a lot about that…right before the test, we noticed a huge manifestación going on outside with guns going off, it was a march of firefighters demanding something or other. I love walking through the manifestacións, it energizes me and reminds me that although my generation in America is politically apathetic and basically doesn´t give a shit about anything, not everyone is like that…

The mundo test was a breeze…it was funny actually, because we had to choose to write a six page essay from two topics (unknown before) and the two questions were either to talk about the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict, or the Cold War. Cha’ching! I wrote everything I knew for two hours, and left the exam feeling a lot lighter and carefree.

I was done! Free to enjoy Sevilla for the last few days and get everything I could out of it. I went to go have a picnic in the park with some of our Spanish friends, which was so much fun. Something on my mind since watching medem is ¨azar¨and ¨casualidades¨…which I´m not sure exactly how I feel about. Remember Tatiana? The Russian girl I met at the beginning of my trip? Well she had told me that although we probably wouldn´t benefit from being intercambios, she would give my number to a Spanish classmate who would call me, incidentally he also spoke a bit of Russian and was interested in Russian culture. WELL…today in the Park, I met him! It was crazy because we had finished lunch and were just lounging around and enjoying the beauty that is the park, when he just burst into Russian. Nata and I were astounded…it turns out, some of the younger victims of Chernobyl get to come to Spain and stay with Spanish families during the summer, because it betters their health. Alfonso´s family had been taking in a girl or two each summer, who had progressively been teaching him Russian…as we walked down to Viapol to watch a basketball game (Filología vs. Geografía y Historia) we chatted in Spussian…Russish??